Tag Archives: comedy

Season One, Episode Twenty-Four: Chubby Babies Wielding Arrows and Slutty Streetwalking Mailmen

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Random, Writing by

I hate painting my nails.  I always inevitably wind up smudging a nail somehow.  Usually it’s when I think my nails are dry and then I figure it’s safe to go pee and I smear them trying to carefully take my pants off.

Hi.

Well, anyway, I am sitting here contemplating an idea for a story that keeps tickling my synapses and researching ghost towns and drowned towns and thinking about how deliciously melancholy the idea of an entire town under water is.  I’m also thinking about fairy tales and possible names for my main character and how bright my nail polish is (China Glaze lacquer in Pink Voltage.  It’s very very neon pink.) and how much I liked the pilot episode of Smash that I just watched on Hulu.  The mind of a writer is a fantastic thing.  We multitask.

These are obviously not my nails because they are not smudged. No, these are phantom nails I found via Google.

It’s Valentine’s Day.  Yay.  This will actually be the first V-Day that I will not be at work or watching sitcoms over a bowl of Ben and Jerry’s.  I’m excited.  I’m not exactly sure what proper Valentine’s Day etiquette is, but I guarantee you that I will screw it up somehow.  I’m not exactly a particularly classeh ladeh.  Part of me keeps reminding me that there’s a new episode of New Girl on tonight and that I have chocolate gelato in the freezer.  To that schlumpy sweatpant-clad part of me, I say nay.  I will go get overdressed and put on an acceptable amount of makeup and venture out into bitter cold and snow to have a good time.  I’ll be like a hooker mailman (I just giggled at the mental image), but instead of mail I will be delivering…joy.  Yes.

Hmm. They look as though they were delivered some joy by a fat cheeked baby wielding arrows or a hooker mailman.

In other news, my unemployment was rejected on supposedly justifiable grounds, and I am not really wanting to fight the decision, although I have been advised by everyone and their mom to fight it until I get it.  I don’t really feel like fighting with my old boss.  That is a battle not worth fighting because I’ll just wind up getting pissed and I don’t need the stress.  I had four years of that shit and I actually like not having to deal with her anymore.  I might reapply, but if the state ruled that the firing was allowable, I highly doubt that I will receive any compensation.  Just saying.  I don’t feel like wasting time over $165 a week.  Hell, if I have to I’ll apply at Target or something to tide myself over until I find out what is going to happen with the casino.  I applied for state benefits, so I’m just waiting on a response from them.  I highly doubt that I will get rejected when my gross weekly income is nada.

I just thought I’d drop on in and write a quick post because I have been neglectful of a lot of stuff as of late.  This whole days blending together thing is really becoming an issue.  I’m mixing up my days of the week and sleeping a lot.  I think I need to find a routine hobby so that I don’t turn into a crazy person.  Maybe I’ll join the gym so that I have to actually leave the house on a regular basis.

Season One, Episode Twenty-Two: Musings of the Unemployed and Adorkable

Posted in Comedy, Humor by

It’s been like a week and a half since I got fired, and while it hasn’t been as horrible as I thought it would be, I have discovered a few things about being unemployed that I thought I should share with you.  Since I love making inane lists, I figured I would bust out my deep introspectiveness out on y’all that way.

Enjoy.

Things That I Didn’t Exactly Know About Myself Until I Lost My Job, Version 1.0 (Because I’m pretty certain that there will be more editions as the time goes by):

*I am pretty lazy.  I actually kinda sorta knew this about myself, but not having a job to apply myself to has really brought out the lazy side of me.  I’m sure some may argue that my sudden laziness and sleepiness could be depression from my firing manifesting itself, but I’m just going with I’m inherently lazy.  I slept for like 15 hours the other day.  In two evenly spaced increments of time…I think I got up to gather my laundry in a sleepy, stumbly fashion at noonish, and then proceeded to lay back down and sleep til 5 pm.  And I think I was momentarily confused as to why it was so dark, realized what time it was, said “eh” and got up to go deep fry some mini tacos.

…which brings me to another thing I’ve learned about myself.

*I eat.  A LOT.  Several times a day, as a matter of fact.  I kinda knew that I had a big appetite, but back in the days when I had a job, general lack of morale and the crushing sadness of doing inane work made me forget that I was hungry.  Now that I’m unemployed, I do stuff like sleep half the day and then get up and deep fry some Jose Ole mini tacos in my deep fryer and read the Steve Jobs biography.  I’m pretty sure I’ve gained weight in the past week and a half.

Mmm...Damn you, Jose Ole Mini Tacos. You're a tiny calorie-laden bomb of deliciousness.

*I really have no concrete sense of time.  Since I don’t really have a structured day except for when I go to casino class, I pretty much have blurred the line between night and day.  I have stayed up until sunrise a few times in the past week.  I’ve woken up after sunset a few times as well.  I might have been a Cullen in a past undead life.

*I have a pretty persuasive mind, that if taken into the wrong hands could very well be used for evil.  Like I listened to Lana Del Rey on iTunes and couldn’t decide if I liked her or not, so I Hulu‘ed her horribly awkward performance on Saturday Night Live and thought she was a crap singer.  But I couldn’t stop thinking about her song “Blue Jeans” and wound up talking myself into buying a few songs even though I think she is pretty awful.  I listened to them a few times and I was like “god, she is horrible” and then my mind was like “is she really, Lashawn?  Perhaps you should listen again”.  And so I did.

Oh, Lana, I know you are terribly mediocre singer, but there is just SOMETHING about you that makes me go "hmm...I have to listen to you again".

*I read.  A LOT.  I mean, I know I read a lot, I pride myself on my superb love of all things literary.  I learned to read at three and a half, reading is pretty much an intrinsic part of me just as much as my love of music or cheese.  But I didn’t know that I will pretty much read anything, good or bad.  I blame it on my persuasive mind (see above notation).  I also think it might have to be partly due to the crushing boredom that is starting to sink in.  I spent four hours on Wikipedia tonight, reading about random shit and random tangents that I clicked on in the originally random article I started four hours earlier.  I think I’m gonna have to dust off my library card before my brain starts oozing out of my ears from lack of superb reading material.

*I like the idea of exercising, but I don’t actually like to do it.  I think that I might have to talk myself into liking it though, if my thoughtless eating and laziness continues.  I don’t want to be the girl that gained 65 pounds after she lost her job.  That just seems like the beginning of a very slippery slope that could lead to some pretty serious repercussions.  It’s time to bust out my free weights and my Gazelle and the Pilates DVDs I bought a few years back.  And that Women’s Health book of 584546846 exercises that I got on a fitness kick.

I get a pretty good workout on my Gazelle, but Tony Little makes me giggle.

Season One, Episode Twenty: I Don’t Want To Be THAT Guy…You Know, The One Who Throws Around Their Awesomeness

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Random by

Oh.  My.  God.

I feel like I’m gonna throw up.  I think I’m being attacked from the inside by the delicious kugel I just sucked down like a friggin’ Dyson.  Ughhhh.  But you don’t want to hear how the noodley goodness is doing roundhouses in my tummy.  So I digress…

It’s January Fifourth (it’s that gray area between the Fourth and the Fifth, because to some it’s still nighttime and to others it’s early morning…I say it’s still Wednesday, but I know some of you may not concur with me and say it’s Thursday–and some people in the New Zealand/Australia area might even go a step further and say it’s nearly Friday), and I am contemplating the new year and the obligatory resolutions that come along with it.  I don’t really get the concept of making resolutions, especially when people make crazy and outlandish ones that they never really keep.  According to USA.gov, some of the most common resolutions made in America are as follows:

  • Drink less alcohol
  • Eat healthy food
  • Get a better education
  • Get a better job
  • Get fit/Lose weight
  • Manage debt
  • Manage stress
  • Quit smoking

I wonder how many people actually are still keeping those resolutions by the time June rolls around.  I always feel like New Year’s and Lent fall too close together, and there is just way too much resoluting and sacrificing for Jesus and I just can’t do it.

Maybe I’m just non-committal?  Could be.  Whatever the reason, I have compiled a short, but detailed list of previous resolutions of yore and why they failed:

  • Swear less.  I’ve tried that one for Lent a few times too.  It doesn’t work.  I may look sweet and aw shucksish, but I have the mouth of a trucker.  I think all my attempts lasted a few hours.
  • Lose 10-30 pounds.  Pfft.  I love food waaaaay too much to eat healthy.  I hate most healthy food and I can rationalize consuming half a package of Oreos during an episode of New Girl.  That one has lasted me a few weeks, but I always crash and/or burn.
  • Get fit.  Yeaaaaaah…I lasted nearly a year on this one.  I am a pretty vain person, and I like getting all buff and toned and wearing smaller pants.  Who doesn’t?  I am also a sucker for having super toned arms and a fit back, so this was a resolution that I enjoyed…until work derailed me and I fell off the workout wagon.
  • Be a nicer person.  I am, for the most part, a pretty nice person.  Even more so if I like you or think you have potential to be included on my golden list of compadreship.  But if I don’t like you?  Oh that is a sad card to be dealt, because I am quite bitchy and mean.  In both the preppy mean girl mean and in the smart person who makes mean comments that sail over your head and that you don’t really get until you think about it later.  I can usually do good on this one until I inevitably run into a person that I decide I hate.
  • Be less messy.  Oh man…yeah, that one doesn’t get too far out of the gate.  I don’t even know why I try to make that one, to be honest.
  • Try to go to bed earlier.  Um…yeah.  You see how well that one worked out.

I decided that this year I’m just going to not make any resolutions and see how that works out.  Ash Wednesday is February 22nd, and I have to come up with something particularly good to impress Jesus, so I’ll come up with a good Lenten thing to give up.  Maybe I’ll actually keep it?  That would be a first.  I don’t think I have ever kept a resolution or whatever I gave up for Lent.

Wow.  I am a non-committal, foul-mouthed, slightly chubby, mean and messy nocturnal Catholic who eats badly.

You can't argue with perfection.

At least I’m funny.  That’s gotta count for something, right?  😛

Season One, Episode Seventeen: The Myth of the Supermom

Posted in Comedy, Culture, Humor, Parenting, Random, Society by

As being a mom goes, I guess one would say that I’m not particularly very good at it.

Let me rephrase that.  I am a good mom, in the actual definition of a mother.  My son is pretty well adjusted and happy, he eats three meals a day, is very loved, and takes his baths and does his homework.  I’m good at the parenting part.  It’s this idealized notion of motherhood that I suck at.

My fabulous little boy!

I’m not very good at being the stereotypical idea of what a mom should be.  I go on to sites like CafeMom, which I refer to as the “MySpace of Mommydom”  or other “mommy friendly” blogs/sites and I’m just like wow, I really suck at this mom shit.  These ladies are really on the ball when it comes to the nominees for Mom of the Year 2011.  I’m not married, nor do I really have a desire to do so.  I’m not a stay-at-home mom.  I don’t cut my son’s sandwiches into fun little shapes with cookie cutters because A.) I would never be able to come up with something like that on my own, and B.) I think it’s a little stupid to cut my kid’s PB & J into the shape of an Easter egg just because Holy Week is right around the corner.  I don’t volunteer for school related activities because I work crazy hours, so if it’s in the morning I’m usually sleeping because I’m tired from work the day before, or if it’s in the afternoon I’m trapped at work.  I actually don’t really like kids that aren’t mine.  I don’t make fun little crafts for Nicky to take to school because I don’t have an ounce of craftiness in my body, and I remember making fun of the kids that would bring in crafty stuff for the teacher.

I am nowhere near this. Nowhere. In my world, the dishes would be piled up and I'd be off doing something fun and adventurous with my son. My husband would be the one washing the dishes in joyous exultation.

I can’t sew.  I’ve tried, but I can’t make cutesy blankets or scarves or whatever the hell it is that those perennially perfect moms do with their spare time.  You know, the little bit of spare time they have between making amazing vegan/organic meals that they have to take pictures of to remind the moms like me how much we suck for taking our kids to McDonald’s or making them Ramen noodles for dinner, taking their kids to the 8858475484 sports practices, ballet recitals, and band rehearsals, and just being all around awesome and perfect.  I’ve never made a cake from scratch or boasted about how I got this stubborn grass stain out of my husband’s khaki shorts.  I don’t have time to create a beautifully elaborate scrapbook of every single memory my son and I have shared or created in the almost seven years he’s been alive.  I barely have enough time to spend with him when I get home from work before it’s time for him to go to bed.  I am not a domestic goddess, not by a long shot.  Nor do I want to be.  It actually sounds pretty damn boring.

I’m not jealous of, or threatened by these “supermoms”, the stay-at-home Wonder Women who claim to be able to change a diaper and frost a cake simultaneously.  First of all, that is overwhelmingly unhygienic, and secondly, I highly doubt that they can actually do that.  No, I actually think it’s pretty cool that they are so dedicated to making their husbands and children so happy.  That is their life and they love it.  Kudos to them.  I, on the other hand, am on the other end of the spectrum.  Like I said earlier, I have no desire to get married and have a huge house with a white picket fence and big backyard for my 2.5 children and my golden retriever.  I have no desire to buy a minivan or discuss home decor or the amazing sale on corn at Giant Eagle.  Nay.  I suppose I am selfish.  And lazy.  And crazy independent.  I’ve always been that way, though.  I was the girl who didn’t want a husband or a dream house or kids.  I wanted to travel the world and have ridiculous experiences to tell whenever I’d write home or visit or whatever.  I didn’t want that cutesy perfect life most girls dream of, with the fairytale wedding and the Cinderella-type happy ending.  I don’t even think my Barbies lived happily ever after, to be honest.

That said, however, I love my son.  I love being a mom.  I’ll just never be that perfect idea of what a mother should be.  I’m the mom who is always late, rushing out the door in the middle of winter without my coat on, juggling my purse and coffee and coat and keys, yelling up the stairs for Nicky to hurry up, when he is actually on the porch with me, coat all zipped up and ready to go.  I’m the mom who loves snuggling up with her son and watching movies.  I’d rather crack jokes with Nicky and lose at Monopoly Jr. than pretend to be perfect.  I’m the mom who sings silly songs at the top of her lungs and gets in tickle fights and has awesome conversations with her kid.  I’m a hands on mom. I’m the mom who works six days in order to make forty hours so that she can supplement the ridiculously low child support she gets a month.  I’m the mom who toughs it out and still lives at home because she has the common sense to know that she can’t do it alone.  I’m pretty proficient in self-sacrifice.

I think, actually, that this alleged “Supermom” that seems to exist only on CafeMom and these other peachy keen mommy sites is just a myth.  It’s easier to sound perfect when you’re behind a computer screen and no one is actually there to back you up.  I’m willing to wager that 85% of the moms in the world are like me–imperfect and fun and nowhere near the stereotype from the 1950s.  I’m pretty sure that I’m the definition of a real mom, and I’m okay with it.  Just don’t ask me my thoughts on matching wall paint colors with curtains and upholstery.  You’ll get a blank stare 😛

I love this, haha. Sums me up in one short sentence.